MIRAMAR AIRSHOW 2009

You know some people think they have me all figured out. And I laugh... The reason that I love going to Miramar is so complicated and so simplistic that it often escapes people. They act like it some big secret, and in fact it is as simple as knowing that someday I am going to soar... I am going to make it. That this battered and bruised battleship is being put back together daily, that my rivets are being rewelded where they once popped apart. The broken hull is being made stronger and tighter, and yes... someday I am going to fly. Not just merely a secretary in an office as the assistant to all... but for once I am going to fly, and shine for all to see. An airshow moment of my life... no longer the spectator, but to dance in the glory of the sun. The time is coming, I can feel it....

And yet it is deeper still and more complicated. For many that come to the tarmac hold a love of the planes, and a serious appreciation for the grace and beauty of flight. I love the feel of the jet wash ripping through the air and reverberating off the bones deep within my chest. The sight of a slow copper orange sunset glistening off the rivets of an old, polished, pristinely restored, B-52 Bomber, that makes the beautiful, brunette, bombshell nose art take center stage. It is the soft low hum of the crowd as a F-22 comes in for a tight pass, and a high banking turn. It is the clapping of appreciation as an armored tank drives by with honorable service men and women waving from the turrets. It is the peaceful, misleading dance, in the sky high above. Beautiful and graceful, and yet lethal if necessary. It is the show of magnificent skill and talent, coupled with engineering master pieced constructed by intellectual collaborations and designed by marvelous minds. They are the fantastic women of the sky. Symbolic in their beauty, grace, and stream lined prowess as well as in their vastly different shapes, colors, and job classifications. They are strong when they need to be, and gentle, and patient when they don't.

I was told by one of my sons not so long ago, that my fascination with planes and with flight was not feminine,... that it was not becoming of a woman. I beg to differ. It is how I see it that makes it what it is to me. Although no other may see it as I, it is the vision that makes me who and what I am. Some think it is this love and passion that is slowly deteriorating the fine tuning of my hearing. What I do know is I truly LOVE the sound of the engines, the roar of the after burners... it is magnificent,AWESOME, inspirational and it makes me smile from deep within my soul. Few things in life are worth losing your senses for... to me, this is one that just is. Not many would understand that concept... then again not many understand me, and that is OK. This time, this place, the moments I get to be at NASA, these are moments of my dreams. I cherish them. I soak them in and they become a part of me. I love planes... I love air shows... I love flight.

But the whole air show event is not limited to the enjoyment I get from the planes. The planes are just the tip of the iceberg for me. It is spending time with the my beloved family... and enjoying the time we get to be with one another. Enjoying the personalities, and uniqueness in all of us. Watching my oldest son light up in the glow of the Marine Corps propaganda booths, and all of the Marine Corps gear. Letting him go with limited freedom to get food and drinks on his own, without the watchful supervision of his over protective Mother. How happy he is to walk past the men and women in uniform all puffed up and dreamy of days and accomplishments just around the bend to come. A boy looking into the eyes of manhood, and his desired future profession. Not knowing the real commitment involved, but desiring it none the less. It is watching the eyes of my two youthful sons faces deep into their very first funnel cakes. The strawberry and apple fillings smothering the hot pastry waffle goodness in a shower of powder sugar. How excited they were to sell me out for the Mother of the Year Award when I announced that Funnel Cakes were an acceptable dinner for air shows. How puzzled the looks as to how to judge their mother being morphed from the vegetable forcing balanced food group policeman to the carefree junk eating glutton cheerleader. How they seemed to revel in the thought they were getting away with something.

It was sitting cuddled into the arms of the one that you love in the brisk night air watching the night show, the fireworks, and the Napalm Wall of Fire. The Ooooooooo's and Awes resounding from the crowds in all directions in a chorused crescendo of amazement and appreciation overcame everyone at the same time.

It is the happy little boy laughter coming from the barreled chests of grown men as the fire billows the mushroom cloud explosions high into the darkened sky and dusts you with a blanket of dry heated warmth. It is the love in the air, the positive feeling that surrounds you and holds you up long after the show is over. It is the patriotism, the love of nation, country, service, and yourself that hangs heavy in your heart long afterward. This is Miramar... this is Family... this is Southern California Fun. This is what I live for...